Black-Eyed Moon (A Guinan Jones Paranormal Mystery #1) (3 page)

Tamzen bounced over to Tessa and looped an arm through hers. "I want to be like you when I grow up, Mrs. Hicks. Great cook, earth mother, creator of Zeke."

I laughed along with everybody else. Tamzen was kidding. Everybody knew she didn't want to be anything like Tessa. She wanted to leave this "hick town," leave the South entirely and live in a big city. "Any big city," she always said. I'm the one who wanted to be like Tessa.

"Gotta shower," Zeke
said to his girlfriend. "Be ready in a few."

She winked at him and began spooning gumbo into a small bowl.

An hour later, Tim and Tessa were ready to leave, and I tried to soothe Jude while he cried. I'd stolen a couple of glances at Tim when he arrived home, but the truth was, I didn't want to sense anything else. I didn't want to think about him cheating on a woman like Tessa.

I'd gotten Jude settled when Jacob started up as he watched Zeke and Tamzen heading for the door. He looked up at me with watery eyes, and
I peered into them. I sensed a half-formed ball of fear at his apparent abandonment.

Zeke had changed into a pair of dark jeans and
a dark-green T-shirt. Tamzen kissed him on the cheek and wiped off lipstick with her thumb.

"I told h
im about the group outing idea," she said. "If you're down for tomorrow, we can hang out."

I shrugged. "I'll think about it."

She squealed again. "Awesome. Call you tomorrow." She lingered as if to make sure I wasn't joking. She shoved her hand into Zeke's back pocket, and I avoided looking either of them in the eye. I definitely didn't want to sense what they might be feeling after being closed up in his bedroom.

"You two kids don't stay out too late," I said, trying to sound casual. I grinned at Zeke, not exactly expecting him to squeal. But he was frowning and looking at a point somewhere above my head.

Walking in the woods on a b
almy, midsummer's night felt good. The air tasted sweet. I was deep enough that nobody could spot me from the road.

I turned left and tuned my ear to the sound of the babbling creek, hidden behind a copse of trees. As I moved
toward it, I looked at the moon, a heavy, floating white ball. As soon as I focused on it, it seemed to brighten, illuminating my surroundings.

I stood in a rarely trodden part of the woods, the place where I'd once spotted a snake. Paranoid, I looked at my feet.
They touched the ground, but I sensed I was floating.

Am
I alone?
I heard movement in the dry grass, and adrenaline rushed through my limbs. A quicker movement, like a small animal darting away, pulled my attention to the right. I stopped and went pin-drop quiet. I looked up at the stars hanging in the black sky. I breathed deeply and tried to stay calm and get this right.

Get what right?

From the corner of my eye, something pale flashed in the air. As I turned my head toward it, there was a
whoosh
sound. Before I had a chance to duck, a long, slender object connected with the side of my head. The sound it made against my skull was nauseating. A nasty, throbbing pain reverberated inside my head and down my spine. Motes of light exploded in front of me, and I crumpled to the ground. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision.

I touch
ed the side of my head, wet and pounding. I moaned as my fingers tangled in soggy hair. A sob escaped, and I saw flashes of red and black. I tried to see who hurt me. I heard feet shuffle in the dry grass.

"Why?" I said.

But I knew I wouldn't be around to hear the answer. The pain, the awful pain, rattled inside my broken head, and I rested it on the ground. Dirt, embedded in my left cheek, was gritty on my tongue. I thought I heard the object whistling through the air again, and I flinched. Then the darkness receded, and a gauzy film of light bloomed behind my eyelids. I flailed my arms, expecting to feel dirt and leaves, but I hit something soft.

I called out to my grandmother.
I felt frantically at the side of my head. No blood, no pain. I sat up and looked around. I wasn't at home or in my bed. I was on Tessa's couch. I looked at the blood-red digital read-out on the clock on the fireplace mantle: 11:23 p.m. Several hours earlier, I'd given the twins the bottled milk Tessa had expressed. They'd fallen asleep quickly. I checked the baby monitors on the coffee table to make sure the volume was turned up but decided to go upstairs to see for myself that the children were okay.

I peered at each of them in their cribs.
Nothing quite as peaceful as sleeping babies.

I stopped in front of Zeke's bedroom. I flipped on
the light switch. Dark blue, and neat for a boy. It smelled like old leather and stale socks. It also held Zeke's smell, which, oddly, reminded me of cinnamon. I hadn't been inside his room since the day he'd shouted at me to get out of his house. I rubbed my temples and went back to the family room.

I sat on the
couch, wrapped myself in a throw blanket, and thought about the dream. I hadn't had one like it since my mother had been pregnant with my baby brother. I'd been afraid to tell her I dreamed she had a miscarriage. After she lost the baby about a week later, I told her. Could I have saved him if I'd said something sooner? Maybe. That's when my parents got rid of me.

I buried my face in my hands and hoped
like crazy I'd had a stupid, ordinary dream.

***

I wanted to do something normal, to pretend I was like everybody else, so I gave in to the group outing thing.

Dean Harris and I sat side by side in a booth at Busby's across from Tamzen and Zeke. I fiddled with my fries and glanced at Dean every now and then. He grinned like he'd won the lottery. His brown hair fell to his shoulders, and his sleepy l
ight-blue eyes made him appear relaxed at all times. He came to my door to "escort" me to Zeke's car. Several inches taller than my five-five, he made eye contact. I held it, tempted to read him, but I backed off. Although I was curious, I didn't want to sense anything embarrassing.

Busby's was buzzing and always crowded on Sunday afternoons. Families arrived after church and competed for tables with roaming bands of teenagers who'd slept in and decided to grab a late lunch. Dean and Zeke were on their second hamburgers, and Tamzen wolfed down hers like she hadn't eaten in days. She was one of the few girls I knew who didn't get embarrassed eating in front of their boyfriends.

"I don't see what the big deal is," she said. "Mrs. Lucas and her husband were getting a divorce."

"Just because they were separated doesn't mean they were getting a divorce," Zeke said. His eyes darted in my direction.

She took another bite and gestured. "Duh, that's usually the first step."

Zeke wiped his hands on a napkin and inclined his head at Dean. "Sometimes things work out."

We all looked at Dean, who flushed slightly. "My dad moved out for a few months last year. They worked things out."

"I didn't know that," I said, surprised. In Ridg
e Grove, everybody usually knew everybody's business. I glared at Zeke.

"It's okay," Dean said. "It's private, but it's not some big secret."

The four of us sat in silence for a moment. That morning we'd spent a couple hours hanging out in Chelsea. But we had to come back to Busby's to eat. Best hamburgers this side of the Mississippi. Or so my grandfather said.

"Hey, Guinan," Tamzen said, shifting in her seat. "Did you pick up on any weird vibes at the boyfriend's place?"

I shook my head. Most people in town knew about my presence at death scenes.

Zeke snorted, and I cut my eyes at him. He stared at his empty plate and sipped his Mountain Dew.

"I think that's so cool," Dean said. "You could make a lot of money doing that, you know."

"I don't really like doing it. Besides, it's n
ot like I can read the future. I think that's where the money is."

"Have you tried?" Tamzen looked at me with wide eyes.

I waited for everyone to laugh like it was a big joke, but the table was quiet. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dean staring at me. Zeke watched Tamzen like she'd lost her mind.

"No, I haven't tried," I said. "
I guess hearing the dead's final thoughts could lead to something. But reading emotions? It's like I'm invading people's privacy."

"You are," Zeke said. We all looked at him. "Dean, do you want Guinan to sense exactly what you're feeling right now?"

Dean shifted in his seat and gulped down the rest of his Sprite. Tamzen laughed.

"It isn't normal," Zeke said. "I mean, sensing somebody's private feelings? Really, it's none of her business."

"I can control it," I said. Before we'd fallen out, I'd told him exactly how my abilities worked and how I blocked emotions. "And I don't go around just reading people."

Tamzen tossed her napkin on the table and turned toward him. "But let's say someone plans to commit murder." She raised her eyebrows and pointed at me. "She could save someone's life."

"Good point," Dean said.

A warm feeling filled my chest, and I relaxed a little.

"She can make a lot money being a private investigator," Dean said. He stopped for a beat. "And I could be her manager."

Tamzen let out a whoop and clapped. We went back and forth like this for a while, Zeke in the corner brooding and the rest of us coming up with money-making schemes.

"What about this one," I said, getting into it. "I could become a consultant with the FBI or the CIA and charge a huge fee."

"Awesome," Dean said.

I smiled and nibbled on a cold French fry. While the others talked, my mind drifted. Zeke and I were thirteen and sitting on my front porch. Before I realized what I was doing, I was staring at his eyes. I sensed the fear behind them. A fear of loss. Abandonment. He'd told me before that his parents had been arguing a lot, and he thought they'd get a divorce.

He'd seen the look on my face and demanded to know what I sensed. I told him, and he didn't speak to me for a week. We made up, but I
"accidentally" read him again. That time, I sensed fear mixed with shame. I told him what I felt, and he told me to get out of his house.

"
I see that you still zone out in the middle of conversations." I startled and looked up at his frowning face. "Same old Guinan."

My jaw clenched. "And why would I change?" He pretended not to hear me. "You're still the same old Zeke. Stubborn.
Self-righteous."

I heard Tamzen's sharp intake of breath. She looked from me to her boyfriend, as though watching a good fight.

Zeke cut his eyes in my direction. "You don't want to have this conversation, believe me."

It was true. I didn't. But I wasn't going to be the one to back down. "Your problem is you think you're perfect. I've got news for you. Not even close."

That got him to look me in the face. "I never claimed to be perfect. But I am normal, unlike you. Reading people's emotions, hearing dead people...It's weird. Some say it's evil."

Dean cleared his throat. I felt him tense up. I took a deep breath.

"Well, I am what I am. I'm certainly not going to let someone make me feel ashamed." Big talk, small lie.

Tamzen
slapped her hand on the table, making us jump. "Hear, hear! Let's get out of here."

I rose from the table in what I hoped was a dignified manner and allowed her to guide me toward the door.

Just outside the door, Adam Carver, one of Zeke's baseball teammates, stood with his cell phone to his ear. He frowned when he saw us.

"Hey, something's going down at Jepson's Point."

My heart skipped a beat. Jepson's Point and the land surrounding it had been in my family for generations, and a certain part of it was a make-out spot, to my grandfather's consternation.

I dreamed about it last night.

"What's up?" Dean said.

Adam shook his head. "My brother's out there right now. He followed a police car. I think somebody's dead."

I raised a hand to my mouth. Two fatal heart attacks in Ridge Grove in a couple of days? Not unusual, but worth discussing. I turned to Tamzen, opened my mouth to speak, and stopped. She and Dean stared at me. Zeke wore a smirk.

Zeke slowed the Jeep and pulled up on the side of Monsoon Road. In front of us were a line of twenty or so cars. To our left, several people milled around in the open field. Beyond it was Jepson's Point. A few yards away from the gathering crowd was a group of three—my grandfather, police officer Rory Davis, and county coroner Avery Stinson.

All this for a heart attack?

Tamzen looked back at me as though I knew what was going on, and I shook my head. It had taken us fifteen minutes to get here from Busby's, and every minute I'd grown tenser. Tamzen had been the only one talking, speculating about who the dead person was and how it happened. We found out before we left the car.

"I hear it's Kate Mansfield," a boy passing by on foot said.

The four of us looked at each other.

"No way," Zeke said, climbing out.

"I can't believe it," Tamzen said, her hand over her mouth. "Kate Mansfield is dead?"

I leaned forward in my seat and f
elt a dreaded sense of déjà vu. Kate Mansfield was a year older than us and a rising senior. Now she was dead? I felt Zeke's eyes on me, and I looked at him. His expression wasn't the usual sneering, condescending one, but of curiosity.

"I just spoke to her the other day,
" Dean said, his mouth agape.

"Come on, let's find out what's going on," Tamzen said.

I grabbed the top of the door with every intention of climbing out, but I hesitated.

Tamzen noticed. "Let's go."

Had I dreamed about the death of Kate Mansfield? I didn't want to find out. "I'll just wait here."

Her eyes went wide. "Are you serious? Maybe you can
see something important."

I
studied my lap.

"Guinan
—"

"Leave her alone," Zeke said. "Come on."

He and I maintained eye contact for the briefest moment, and I sensed an emotion from him that surprised me: compassion. The moment passed. He turned away, and he and Tamzen walked toward the growing group. She looked back at me resentfully.

"
I wonder why Kate was out here," Dean said. He was still in the Jeep with me. I knew he was dying of curiosity, too. "You okay?"

I tried to sound casual. "Yeah." Zeke had
removed the vehicle's top that morning. Sweat broke out on my face in the merciless sun and windless air. "I just don't want to see anymore dead bodies this summer."

He nodded and gave me an understanding look. "I don't blame you."

We sat in silence as cars rolled by hunting for parking spaces as though their occupants were attending a sporting event.

"You don't hav
e to wait here with me."

"I know I don't have to."

I smiled at him. There was an openness in his face. I knew that with him, things would be easy.

"I know you're curious. Go on. I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

I nodded. He
hesitated, then left. Zeke and Tamzen looked back at the same time when they heard him approaching. Two police officers emerged from the woods. They strung crime scene tape across the path. A Ragland County Sheriff's car stopped several cars ahead of the Jeep in the middle of the road. Two deputies got out and hustled across the field. From this distance, I barely made out what they said, but the gestures were clear enough. They were moving the crowd back.

I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled loudly. The first time I saw a corpse, I had nightmares for a month. I still found the whole thing macabre, looking into the unseeing eyes of a dead person and hearing their fading final
thoughts before they dissipated. The bodies themselves didn't freak me out, anymore. Death was as natural as life.

Mrs. Lucas dying was one thing, but
a schoolmate dying was a different story. My cell buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans. I looked at the grinning image on the screen and groaned.

"Hi, Granddad."

"I see you sitting out there. Come on over, hon."

"Do I have to?"

He paused. "You've always had a choice. I know I can be a real pain in the—"

"Is it Kate Mansfield?"

A deep sigh. "Yeah. Looks like she was hit on the back of the head. Hard."

I closed my eyes and swiped sweat off my forehead.

"Bound to be clues around here," he said.

This felt vaguely like a guilt-trip. I had a choice, huh? A few seconds later, I saw Rory tap him on the shoulder. I heard muffled speech. "Gotta go."

I shoved the phone back in my pocket.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I climbed out of the Jeep. I walked purposefully toward my friends, arms folded across my chest. I made brief eye contact with several people along the way. A few whispered to each other when they saw me.

Twenty-something Stacy O'Connor gave me a sideways glance. Whenever we made eye contact, I sensed fear. She was cashier at the Food Mart, and I tried to avoid her register because I knew I terrified her. Pete Wilson, a middle-aged man who worked at the post office, had no fear. He had plenty of unwholesome emotions, though. Adam Carver stood beside Pete, his cell phone still clutched to his ear. He held my gaze, and I sensed a mix of fear, grief, and longing.

By the time I reached
my friends, my grandfather spotted me. I thought he'd call me over, but he didn't. He gave me a slight nod and resumed his conversation. I exhaled.

Tamzen, rubbing her arms, jumped
when my shoulder brushed hers. "Geez!"

"Sorry."

A woman wearing a white forensics field uniform wandered from behind some bushes several yards from the crime scene tape. She walked beyond it and disappeared into the trees. I heard someone behind me crying. I looked back and saw Michelle Foster, Kate's best friend, her face wet with tears and sweat. I noticed that most people were wiping their faces. There was no relief from the sun in this tree-less part of Jepson's Point.

Dean moved closer to me. "The police won't tell us anything."

"I think I heard your grandfather say something about calling the Mansfield's," Tamzen said, still rubbing her arms. "Somebody actually murdered that girl?"

"We don't know if it's murder
," Zeke said.

My mind drifted
back to the dream I had at his house, of standing among the trees in the dark and getting hit on the head. For a moment I pretended I was like everybody else, a morbidly curious spectator. But I wasn't like everybody else. I felt eyes on me from every direction.

Just my luck my grandfather picked this moment to walk over. I wanted to sink into the ground.

It was surreal. I didn't recall him asking me to walk with him, but there I was, moving beside him as though in slow motion. We stepped around the crime scene tape and walked deeper into the woods. I was about to ask how deep we needed to go when Kate's body provided the answer. A twig snapped beneath my feet, and the woman from forensics looked up. I studied my surroundings to take my mind off the body. I'd assumed Kate was found at or near the spot where kids parked and made out. This area was less-trafficked. I guess that was the point.

The woman nodded at my grandfather and stepped back. One of the sheriff's deputies watched me, clearly confused. My ears felt clogged, and sounds reached my brain from far away. Granddad squeezed my shoulder.

"Ready?"

I nodded, and he guided me forward. Kate lay on her back, her normally olive
skin pallid and her eyes open. She wore dark-brown shorts and a white, sleeveless T-shirt. I focused on the position of her body. Something was off.

"Anything you can tell us, hon."

"Did they turn her over for me and open her eyes?" I said. After a scene had been processed, my grandfather usually had a prone body turned over.

"She was found just like this," he said. "On her back, eyes open."

In the dream, I think she died on her left side. I was less certain whether her eyes had been closed. Focusing on the discrepancy was giving me a headache. "What time do they think she was killed?"

"Unofficially, between midnight and three," he said.

Kate might have rolled over to attempt to escape. Or the killer might have done it after she died. Whatever the cause, her final thoughts might clear things up.

"I'm ready."

My grandfather removed his hand from my shoulder, and I stepped forward. I gazed down at Kate's face. I saw traces of the pretty girl I remembered. Her head lay in puddle of congealed blood, her dark hair sticky with it. Her lips, slightly parted, were smeared with the coral-pink lipstick she always wore. Her green eyes were opaque now. I almost expected them to focus on me. I shuddered and felt Granddad approach.

"I'm all right," I said. I took a deep breath and moved closer until I was directly over her face.

"What the hell is she doing?"

I tuned out the noise, peered into Kate's eyes, and focused
on the words forming in my head.

No...no...he wouldn't do this. He loves me.

I strained to see the thoughts that scrolled through Kate's dying brain. Her mother. Her father. Her brother. The woods. Eric. Tim.

Wouldn't leave me alone.

"Guinan!"

I l
ooked around, confused. I was on my knees and gasping.

"What did you see
?" my grandfather said, lifting me off the ground.

"I…"

"Give her some air."

"She's all right. Come on, sit down."

"No, wait," I said. "I want to see more."

Granddad eyed me skeptically. I'd never made this request before, but I had to know if she saw her killer, someone who wasn't Tim. This time my grandfather held on
to me as I looked into Kate's dead eyes again. But there were no thoughts. Just a twinge on the back of my head.

"She was hit on the back of the head?"

Granddad nodded.

I looked into his expectant face. "
She was sad about what was happening. She thought about her family..." I trailed off and leaned closer. "She was thinking about Eric Rodman and Tim, and I saw the words 'Wouldn't leave me alone.'"

He went pale, swallowed, and glanced at the people nearby. I imitated him. The forensics woman watched me curiously, and the sheriff's deputy standing near the tape
facing the crowd craned his neck to stare at me.

"Are you sure?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm positive." Then I told him I'd dreamed of Kate being killed, but in the dream, she'd been hit on the side of the head, not the back. When he didn't reply, I continued nervously. "But it's impossible, right? I dreamed of the future once, a long time ago."

The expression on his face changed so rapidly, I thought he was having another heart attack. My skin felt like it was sizzling. "What?"

Worry lines creased his forehead. "I need to tell you something about your grandmother. She wasn't completely honest with you."